


King of the Clouds

by Kay_kat



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 420 blaze it, Drug Use, Ella and Lucifer Bonding, Ella and Lucifer BroTP, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Marijuana, One Shot, Recreational Drug Use, Rick and Morty References, Weed, Wings, established deckerstar, everyone knows, munchies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_kat/pseuds/Kay_kat
Summary: Lucifer and Ella kick back and relax.





	King of the Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a random little thing, it wasn't intended to fit in with the Joyriding 'verse, but it easily could. So you know... up to you how you want to think of it! Enjoy!
> 
> Big thank you to NotOneLine for looking over this for me and to the discord group for the inspiration to write this <3
> 
> Title credit goes to Panic! at the Disco (the lyrics were supposedly based off Brendan's weed-induced musings)

Lucifer leans against the railing overlooking the stretching expanse of the city below as the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky, casting it in golden-orange hues. He watches as it slowly dips below the horizon, the warm oranges shifting into deeper reds before it disappears completely, plunging the land into darkness.

 Lights twinkle, slowly but surely blinking into life one by one, illuminating the darkness like a sea of artificial stars.

 The night is young. The parties are only just getting started. But tonight he shall not partake. He will not be joining the scantily clad masses amidst their revelry.

 No. Tonight is for him.

Time to unwind. To relax. One of the rare occasions upon which he takes a break from satisfying the desires of others and takes time to indulge himself. Indulge himself with the kind of peace he hasn’t truly known for a long, long time.

He glances upwards. Wispy clouds float across the sky, dimming the light from few stars that do manage to shine despite the harsh light from below. For a moment he lets himself remember what it was all like before. When his purpose was to create….

Twirling the perfectly rolled joint in his hands, he takes a breath, pushing thoughts of the past away and jams it between his lips. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his lighter and flicks it open. On the first couple of tries, he flicks the flint, sparks fly before quickly sputtering out.

He finds himself chuckling, ruefully shaking his head. He really can’t have anything can he?

Taking a breath, he tries again. This time the flame bursts into life and he brings it up, lighting his joint, taking a moment to watch the paper burn, crinkle and turn to ash before he takes a long drag, inhaling deeply. Smoke fills his lungs and, despite the detective not being around, he soon begins to feel the familiar effects of the stuff. He only buys the best, after all.  

The thick, white cloud of puffy smoke slips from his lips, curling around his nostrils as it drifts lazily upwards into the sky. Another drag, two, three. His limbs begin to feel delightfully heavy, his mind light. He basks in the feeling. The joint rests, burning away between his limp fingers. There’s no need to rush. Not now, when it’s just him and the clouds floating above his head.

He idly muses what it might be like to be a cloud. To drift. Floating along without a care in the world. To just _be._ To not have responsibilities, thoughts… _feelings._ Just you and the never ending expanse of the sky. He supposes it must feel like infinity to a little cloud. If clouds could feel, that is. Caught in a cycle, but forever wandering. Alone, but not afraid….

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear the arrival of the elevator or the soft footsteps that approach him from behind.

“Lucifer?” a soft, small voice hesitantly speaks.

It quickly tears him from his thoughts and he spins on his heel to see Ella stood just on the threshold to the balcony, brown eyes wide as she takes him in. She just stares at him for a long moment, her gaze flickering to the burning joint in his hand and then back to his face.

“Miss Lopez,” he begins, his voice sounding a little bit hoarse to his own ears, “What’re you…” _doing here,_ he wants to say, but finds himself trailing off, shaking his head. Of course he knows why she’s here. What’s the point in asking.

She takes a step towards him, wrinkling her nose as the light breezes carries smoke in her direction. “Chloe said that—”

“There’s no need to explain, Miss Lopez,” he quickly interrupts. “It’s quite clear why you’re here.” His words are sharp. Sharper than he had intended, for he knows that he fully deserves whatever she’s about to dish out to him. He’s just letting his emotions get the better of him, _again._

He braces for whatever lecture he’s about to receive only, it never comes. She still stares back at him, her features soft and laced with something akin to… _sadness_.

What reason does she have to be sad? He’s the one that’s royally screwed things up. The one that’s alone once again.

“It is?” she asks, face creasing ever so slightly.

He hums, bobbing his head once. “You’ve come to _scold_ me. Obviously. Well,” he waves a hand in the air, “get on with it then. Hate to waste good pot,” he grumbles, gesturing with his joint.

The crease in her face deepens and she raises an eyebrow at him. “Lucifer that’s not why I’m here, like, at all.”

Oh?

“Chloe might have mentioned that you two had an argument.” She shrugs. “Knowing you, I figured you totally be freaking out about it. So, I came to see if you were okay.”

Oh.

He blinks back at her, stunned. He thought she’d be mad at him for upsetting Chloe. Instead she’s asking him if he’s… okay?

“Are you freaking out? Totally seems like you’re freaking out, man.”

“ _I am not_ ‘ _freaking out’,”_ he huffs, taking another drag of his joint, careful trying to blow the smoke away from her.

She raises her eyebrows at him and turns to the side, gesturing inside to the plethora of joints, snacks and bottles of booze that cover the coffee table. “Are you sure about that?”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, pulling it through his no doubt already mused hair. Turning, he rests on the railing once again. The cold of the metal seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt, pleasantly cooling his skin. Ella joins him, leaning just beside him.

“I just… I needed some time.” He swallows hard trying to rid himself of the lump that’s formed in his throat. “It’s just a lot. I’ve never been in a relationship before. Not a proper one. I think I got a little bit… _overwhelmed_ that’s all.”

“I get that.” She bobs her head, her ponytail bouncing with the movement.

Silence hangs between them for a long moment. He glances at her in the periphery of his vision wonder why exactly she’s still here. She’d come to check if he’s alright and she’s done just that.

So why isn’t she leaving?

“Are you having a party or something?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“No,” he responds, shaking his head, his gaze drifting back to the glowing skyline. “Celestial metabolism,” he adds quietly, gesturing once again with his joint before taking another long drag and exhaling a thick plume of smoke through his nose. “You know how it is.”

She laughs a little bit, bumping him with her shoulder. “Not really. But,” she pauses, pressing her lips together in thought, “I suppose that means you have more than enough to share then?”

To his surprise, she leans over, taking the joint, which now has barely anything left of it, right out of his fingers and brings it up to her lips. He watches, eyebrows quirking, unable to keep the smile from his face as she takes a long drag, holds it for a moment and the looks upwards releasing a billowing cloud of smoke from her lips.

“You little minx!” He nudges her teasingly.

She beams back at him. “You have _no_ idea.”

~

She lays, feet dangling over the back of the sofa, head hanging just off the edge of the seat as she stares at nothing in particular in the upside-down apartment. Lucifer lays on his stomach, long limbs splayed out and hanging off the sides and almost touching the floor.

Several empty family-sized packets of _Doritos_ litter the floor around him. She’d watched him devour them _all_ , caught in some sort of morbid trance that wouldn’t allow her to look away.

A bouncy yet mellow tune floats through the air, billowing from the sound system. It’s not something she recognises, and not anything she’d have ever expected Lucifer to listen to, but it sounds _amazing._ Somehow it matches her mood perfectly.

Something in her craves the can of coke that sits just out of reach on the coffee table, but she’d not sure that she could move to get it even if she could be bothered trying. Her limbs are _so_ heavy. Delightfully so. She feels so unbelievably relaxed.

Warm, tingly and just damn _good._

Like a… pancake. A very relaxed pancake.

Now she wants pancakes dammit.

If only she could move. Moving is hard.

Her gaze drifts to him, just lying there, munching on what must be his sixth packet of chips.

“What’s it like?” The question slips from her lips without a thought.

He perks up, turning to look at her and propping his head up with hs arm. He munches another Dorito, very slowly, face creasing slightly as he chews before he replies with a very confused sounding “What?”

The image causes a giggle to tumble from her lips. The _Devil_ looking at her like a confused puppy. A very _stoned_ , confused puppy that is. The Dorito dust around his mouth and overall dishevelled look just make it more hilarious.

_Dishevelled Devil._

She finds herself laughing harder. So hard that it hurts. She moves to hold her stomach, attempting to gasp for breath in between her fits of laughter. _Oh God_ it hurts, but she just can’t stop. She doesn’t even remember what was funny in the first place.

Lucifer just stares blankly at her, eyes glassy and rimmed red. “What’s funny?”

Taking a deep breath, she manages to steady herself just enough to respond, “Dishevelled Devil,” before promptly bursting out in another fit of laughter.

He slowly nods his head, his expression calm. “Alright,” he says thoughtfully, as if he’s finding some sort of sense in the words. “What were you going to ask me?”

Her laughter fades and she frowns. “What?”

“You asked what it’s like. What is what like?” He waggles his eyebrows and grins before adding, “If you’re wondering what a night with the Devil is like--”

“Ew, gross, no,” she quickly cuts him off. Despite her state of mind, she knows where that sentence was going and no. Just no. She knows he doesn’t mean it; crude jokes and immature remarks are just part of who he is. She really just thinks of him as too much of friend to even go there.

Maybe just a bit more than that. He’s really more of a big brother to her than her four brothers have ever been. The thought feels a little bit mean, but she really cares about Lucifer and, though he’s hesitant to show it, she can tell that in his own way he really cares about her too.

She shakes the errant train of thought when he sits up, picking a pack of cookies off the table and tearing into it. She raises and eyebrow at him. Anyone would think he’s ravenous.

“What’s it like to fly?”

He pauses mid bite, the question clearly catching him off guard. “I…” he trails off. His dark eyes meet hers and narrow as he tilts his head to the side slightly. The moment of silence seems to stretch for an eternity. She worries she’s upset him, but then he suddenly responds, “Freeing. It’s… freeing. There’s nothing quite like it….”

His gaze goes distant, expression wistful.  

It’s one of the things she’d wondered a lot about. One of the things he never really talks about. His wings and everything before Hell.

He’s quiet for a long time. She can’t help but stare at him, the distinct worry settling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it’d been a mistake to ask him now. He was obviously already feeling down. She shouldn’t have been so insensitive.

Then he sighs, rolls his shoulder and gust of wind seems to sweep through the room followed by a rustling noise before his wings appear. Like… from nowhere.

Her eyes widen. An awe-filled “Woah” slips from her lips as she shifts in her chair, sitting up and leaning forward as if drawn in by them.

She’s seen them before, but never this close and certainly not when she’d been high as a kite. Suddenly, she’s overcome with the urge to touch them. He doesn’t seem to notice though.

He just slumps backwards, pristine feathers rustling slightly as he does. He sighs again, sounding more content now. “That’s better,” he mumbles, as if to himself and then turns to her. “You don’t mind, do you?”

It seems to take her brain a long time to even register that he’s talking to her. “No. I… uh, not at all.” Her eyes are fixed on the downy white feathers. They look _so_ soft. Like… _so_ soft. All she really wants to do is touch them. That would be weird though, wouldn’t it?

Probably. Weird.

Like… _so weird._

She shouldn’t. She should just try not to think about it. About how good they probably feel. Soft and silky beneath her fingers and--

“You can touch them if you like,” Lucifer says out of nowhere. He’s leaning back, his eyes closed. He looks… peaceful.

“How did you…?” she begins to ask, frowning.

A little chuckle escapes his lips. “You humans, you have a tendency to be drawn by divinity like moths to a flame.”

She moves to perch on the edge of his couch and reaches out, hesitantly at first. Her fingers gently brush along the spine of one of the larger feathers. She finds herself shocked when he gasps a little. “Do you… _feel_ that?”

He hums, nodding his head wordlessly.

“Is this okay?”

He nods again, groaning a little as she gets a bit more confident, stroking down the feathers like one might pet a cat.

They’re softer than she’d expected. Softer than anything she’d ever felt. Her hand seems to just repeat the rhythmic motion as if on autopilot.

She seems to get absorbed in them. Whether it’s the effect of the weed fogging her brain or the fact that she’s touching divinity, she can’t be sure.

Actual divinity.

And she’s petting it like _a cat._

Okay this is definitely weird.

She pulls her hand away in what must be a jerky motion because he quickly cracks an eye open, asking in silent question why she’s stopped.

“I… uh…” she stammers a little, his intense gaze never faltering. “They’re… _nice._ ”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “‘Nice’?” he parrots. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he sounds offended. “They’ve been called a lot of things, but ‘ _nice’_ certainly isn’t one of them.” He pauses a second, cocking his head slightly before adding, “Do they really bother you that much?”

“No!” she replies quickly. “They don’t bother me. I just… feel a little… _overwhelmed_ by them.”

“Oh.” He looks a little sad at that and her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. “I can put them away if you’d prefer?”

She shakes her head. “No. That’s okay. I mean… not unless you want to.”

He shrugs a little and returns to working his way through the pack of cookies, now seemingly unfazed by the conversation. She inwardly curses herself for making it awkward. It definitely feels like she made it awkward. Or maybe she didn’t.

It’s kind of hard to tell….

“Where do they go? When they’re not out I mean.”

“Well,” he says around the cookie in his mouth, carelessly spraying crumbs everywhere, “They sort of like… go into...” he trails off, chewing for a moment like he’s searching for the right words. He finally swallows and continues, “Fleshy wing pockets?”

She hesitates, grimacing. “That sounds… um _… gross._ ”

He almost immediately bursts out laughing, covering his mouth with his fist, practically doubling over. His wings ruffle with the movement.

“You’re messing with me aren’t you?” she asks, eyes wide.

He nods, still laughing his head off, smacking his hand on the couch cushion as he does. “ _Fleshy wing pockets,”_ he repeats, still laughing as he says the words.

“Dude!” She playfully smacks his arm as he continues to laugh, feeling herself smile despite the fact that he laughing at her. After a minute or so he laughter dies down and he wipes a tear from his cheek as he beams at her with a side smile. “I thought you didn’t lie?”

Shrugging, he easily replies, “Technically it’s not _not_ true.”

She blinks a few times, uncomprehending. Her brain just can’t seem to process the words right now.

Picking up on her confusion, he elaborates, “What I mean to say is, it could very well be true.”

“You mean… you don’t _know?”_

He holds his hands out to his sides. “It’s… complicated. A lot of extra-dimensional malarkey really.”

She raises an eyebrow. “ _Extra-dimensional…_ like _String Theory?”_

“Kind of.” He shrugs. “Amenadiel was always the scholar of the family though. I always thought it wise to spend my time doing… well, anything other than _studying_.” He grins and she can only imagine what other mischief he’d gotten up to in his youth.

There’s a moment when her brain crashes when she remembers that _his youth_ had been spent as an angel. In Heaven. She recovers quickly though. Well, maybe it’s quickly it’s hard to tell.

 _Man,_ whatever they’ve been smoking is strong.  

She rubs her eyes and slumps back into the couch, her inebriated mind pouring over the things that he’d told her. _Extra-dimensions_. She’d dabbled in physics, but it is far from her area of expertise. Honestly, most of her limited knowledge comes from sci-fi like Star Trek.

It makes her wonder what they’d actually gotten right. Physicists and just humans in general.

“So… there _are_ multiple universes?” she asks, registering somewhere in the back of her mind that the packet of cookies seems to have disappeared and he’s now eating a pack of gummy bears.

He must really have like, the worst munchies.

His eyes narrow as he throws a handful of bears into his mouth and proffers the packet to her. She takes a handful. “There are different universes, but it’s not like you humans think of it. There’s certainly no magical portal gun that can be used to hop between dimensions or any nonsense like that.”

“You watch _Rick and Morty?”_ she asks incredulously.

He chuckles, folding his arms. “Of course I do. What else are you supposed to watch when you get high?”

She turns to the flat screen. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He grins. “Oh yes.”

And that’s how she ended up drifting off to sleep practically cuddling up to the Devil whilst watching a crazy cartoon about a kid and his mad scientist grandpa.

 

~

 

Chloe taps her foot impatiently as the elevator ride up to the penthouse seems to take forever.

She feels bad for what had happened. They’d had a stupid little miscommunication that had somehow escalated into a full-blown argument. They’d both said things that had been out of line, things that out of the heat of the moment she’d regretted. After the night spent alone, she really just misses him and wants to apologise.

She can only hope that he hasn’t spiralled too badly out of control like he has a habit of doing when he’s upset. So, as she waits she prepares herself, not for the worst mind. Even when he’s upset, she knows-- has _faith_ that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Still, she expects a wild party. Probably him still passed out from a night of debauchery.

When she finally arrives though, what she finds truly surprises her.

She’s greeted by the sickly smell of marijuana hanging heavy in the air. Various packets litter the floor. Empty bottles lay, carelessly discarded. An ashtray sits on top of the piano filled with what must be the remnants of half a dozen joints.

The thing that really surprises her though, is him, sound asleep, wings unfurled and hanging limp behind him over the couch. Ella lays, her head resting on his shoulder in a deep, peaceful looking slumber.

She can’t help but smile at the saccharine scene before her. Quietly, she inches forwards and leans over him gently pressing her lips to his forehead in a chaste kiss. He grumbles a little in his sleep but doesn’t wake.

Her heart swells for him. Her sweet, caring Devil.

And if she takes a picture with her phone, well… he doesn’t have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Follow me on Twitter if you fancy having a chat about Lucifer, Deckerstar or anything really [@kaykat666](https://twitter.com/kaykat666). Thanks for reading!


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